


Electric Touch

by Dr_Harbinger



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Clubbing, F/M, Light BDSM, Sub!Scout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Harbinger/pseuds/Dr_Harbinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you go to the club to dance the stresses away, you didn't think that you'd find someone like him. He's got at least two of your major kinks nailed down, possibly a third if you can hear him talk to see if he has an accent. He's nearly perfect. All he needs is your collar around his neck and the title "Ma'am" on his lips when he addresses you but that can be corrected soon enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electric Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WritingCyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingCyan/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own Team Fortress 2. It is property of Valve. No copyright infringement is intended with the creation of this story.
> 
> Also I blame this fic entirely on the fact I listened to this song Ирма - Парень, ты паришь меня (я играю с тобой) after reading some TF2 fics featuring our favorite youngster. It is, in fact the song that "you" use to seduce him. This is an unbeta'ed work. All errors are my own.

The club is loud but you don’t care. The music is steady, the bass and the beat heavy and either energetic or entrancing. Your heart feels like it’s beating with the music and your eyes, closed so you can feel the music better, are not straining against the lights. There are a lot of other people dancing but your friends are elsewhere. They all found dance partners but you aren’t jealous. You’re here to dance for yourself. The week has been stressful. You need to burn off the stress and this club is the perfect place to do it. Moving to the music without a care in the world is just what the doctor ordered.

It’s while the music is in the process of changing that you feel someone come up behind you, staying close enough that you can feel their heat against your back but not so close they are pressed against your body. Their hands, however, are resting gently on your hips and their breath is ghosting along your neck. They move with ease to match your dance style. You laugh and turn your head to speak to whoever it is. They’ve got a sense of beat and you don’t mind the bump and grind dance… at least you wouldn’t mind so long as this man (as women are rarely so bold) meets your standards.

As it turns out, you can’t see him from that angle so you turn around to face him. His hands never leave your hips as the pair of you keep dancing. It’s only now that you see his face, partly hidden by a hat he wears, that you decide he’s handsome enough to warrant a dance or two at least. His face is lean and his eyes are light colored though you can’t tell what the color is in the dim room. He’s wearing a vest that looks blue and he’s got dog tags on. You don’t care enough to look lower. Your almost purr at the sight of his dog tags. A slender man with dog tags is one of your biggest kinks. Maybe he’ll even warrant a drink or two tonight.

Before either of you can say anything the song establishes itself and you smile mischievously. It’s one of your favorites, a sensual piece with a steady beat to pop and roll your hips to. If this man thought you looked good before, this should make him nearly stumble over himself in his desire for you. You don’t need to adjust your cropped shirt. You just put those belly dancer lessons to go use, biting your lip as you drop an arm around his neck to keep him close and trail your other hand along his abs. They’re not washboard but they’re hard. He’s fit. You approve of this. He does too if the way he’s grinning at you and shifting his hands to grab your ass are any indication.

You lick your lips and let him pull you closer your hand tracing a trail around his body so that your hand is resting on the small of his back and is pulling up the hem of it. He feels gorgeous over his clothes. You wonder if his skin is as smooth and hot. You can feel him shiver when you find your goal and one of his hands moves to slide up onto your bare back. His hands feel big and calloused. A laborer. That explains this firm bod. Good. He’s not a total douche bag then.

The arm you had around his neck, moves to join its sister on his body but instead your rest this hand on his flank, using both to feel how his muscles are moving beneath his skin (one over his top and the other under) while he’s leaning closer and breathing against your neck. You feel short of breath too but you’re not sure it’s for the same reason. He wants you. You can feel it in the way he holds you and through other means. It’s hard to hide that kind of reaction when you’re that close to him. He wish he’d take off the hat but at the same time it gives him a kind of sexy allure you’re not entirely sure he’d have without it. He’s not scarily big but he’s a decent size. Plenty to have fun with.

You turn around abruptly and keep dancing like you were, popping and rolling your hips to the beat while one hand brushes your hair over your left shoulder and the other reaches back for him. He takes it as the invitation it is and this time he presses against your back. One of his hands is resting just under your right breast and the other is hovering over the button of your fitted jeans. His lips are on your neck, his breath hot against your skin and while he clearly doesn’t have the dance skill you do, he’s keeping up pretty well. Oh hell yeah. This one might just warrant a trip home. You don’t usually do one night stands but if you can keep up with you for the rest of your time at the club then he’s earned the right to your bed… so long as he doesn’t say or do anything stupid between now and then.

The song winds down and slowly blends into another. It’s a slightly more pop piece than the one you were just dancing do and don’t mind a bit of a rest. You want to get to know this guy a little more and the dance floor is just a bit too loud. You want to hear his voice when he speaks. You wonder if he’s got an accent. You hope so. You’ve got a thing for accents too. If not, then maybe he’ll get that gag you keep for the annoying ones. You haven’t had much use for it yet. 

So you lead him toward the outskirts of the dance floor, wanting to keep dancing with him a bit but still hear him. He follows willingly. He has to. You have him by those dog tags of his. What a sight the pair of you must make. Not that anyone in this club will care. He is yours for now and you want people to see. You’ve caught yourself quite the catch it seems. 

The music shifts just as you stop and turn, he runs into you but that’s okay. You start dancing with him again and this time, although he isn’t quite groping you, he does hold you close as you two bump and grind. The hand that isn’t holding his tags is running through the short hair on the back of his head. You don’t know the color but it really doesn’t matter. You scratch at it and he seems to like that. It’s not long enough to pull at. Oh well. You can still grab his neck if you want.

“Damn girl,” he says just over the music and you laugh. He does have an accent then. American. Bostonian? Could be. You’re not very good with accents but the fact he has one is a turn on too. You got lucky tonight it seems. “I don’t know where ya learned to move like that but I gotta say I like it a lot. Don’t suppose you got experience as a dancah somewhere?”

You want to feel insulted but you understand what he means. You’re somewhere between insulted and amused that he finds your dancing so hot he actually asked you if you were a stripper or something. Silly boy. It looks like your mission is accomplished. 

You tell him that you picked up belly dancing as a hobby to stay in shape and say with a wink that it’s gained you other benefits too. He laughs then and you smile at the youthful look it gives him. He doesn’t look like a kid but he’s not an older man either. Perfectly. You like them in their twenties. 

“Looks like it’s paid off in a really sweet way,” he says, “You got any other interestin’ hobbies?”

You wonder if you should tell him. You have a kit at home, one you use for your own pleasure and to teach others of the art of bondage and sadomasochism. To you, it’s not always sexual. The men who come to you (and even a few women) are coming to you in need of something specific in a very intimate setting. Some tell you what the need. Some you can judge for yourself. This one… this one needs to be tied down, made to sit still and learn a couple things in the art of patience. You can see his impulsiveness. He’d try and rush things otherwise.

Instead of telling him all of this, you say that you have a few extracurricular activities you’d be more than happy to show him if and when he’s earned a ticket home with you tonight. The way he shivers and smirks at these words means that he’s accepted your challenge. Good. He understands at least partially. You hope he’s not entirely a virgin. You might feel bad taking him in the way you’re planning to tonight if he is. 

The song changes appropriately and you smirk. You let go of his dog tags and pull him so his chest is pressing against yours, your hands holding him close with one holding onto the small of his back and the other at his neck, making him tilt his head a bit. He’s just a little taller than you but not enough that you have trouble reaching his ear. You whisper filthy promises in his ear, things you want to do to him while the singer makes his own promises in the song. Yours are more vulgar and his grip on your body tightens. You can feel him practically panting. Such a shame. This would be his first lesson in patience then. The music builds and at the climax of it you say with the singer, “Tonight I’m fucking you.”

He crushes you to him and moans against your skin. “Babe you gotta quit sayin’ shit like that if you expect me to last long enough for ya ta take home.” You nip at his ear and jaw, your grip on him tightening in answer. You want him to know that he wants you just as badly. However you’ve got a lot more patience than he does. 

You ease up for his sake but every once in a while make sure to tease him some more. He finds the game entertaining enough that he doesn’t complain or call you a tease. You wouldn’t mind if he did. It is true. You just like seeing him desperate for you but restraining himself out of some horribly misguided sense of trying not to pressure you into something. You almost want to roll your eyes at the very idea that his one, this young man, could possibly force himself on you but you don’t want to bruise his ego too much. He’ll have plenty of bruises in the morning to deal with without those.

Your friends, who have left you be with your man, send you a text which you check between songs while he goes to get you a drink with some money you hand him with very specific instructions on what you want and what you recommend he should have. They want to make sure you’re already with your dance partner before they leave. You laugh and send them a text saying that you’re fine and you’ll tell them all about the boy tomorrow. They know what you mean. The friend who texted you sends a winking emoticon with the words ‘Don’t hurt him too bad’. As if there is such a thing as too bad, you think just as he returns with the two drinks in question, easily navigating around the dancers and people without spilling a single drop.

After you finish your drink, all the while flirting and playing footsie with your prize, you say to him that you have a car outside and would be more than happy to show him the extracurricular activities you were talking about. He nods eagerly and gets to his feet, offering you a hand while he practically vibrates with energy. Who would have thought he’d still have all that energy left in him after dancing for so long? It pleases you and it shows in your expression as you give him the coy eyes and lead him through the crowd, purposely swaying your hips as you walk out of the club toward your car. You know it’s a relatively nice one without being ridiculous looking. He knows without asking to take the passenger seat. Good. He’s already learning his place.

It doesn’t take long to get back to your place and he barely waits long enough for the pair of you to get inside before he’s trying to crowd you against the door. You don’t allow that. You shove him hard against the wall and close the door with your foot before you crowd him instead. You steal that hungry kiss you’ve been wanting all night. You hold onto his head and neck to make sure he won’t move from where you want him as you plunder his mouth. He doesn’t protest but he does try to fight you for dominance in the kiss. Too bad he doesn’t quite understand his position. 

You don’t let him win and pull away before he even thinks about having the upper hand. His hands reach for you but you quickly grab his wrists and pin them to the wall. He’s a bit winded and watching you with hungry eyes. His hat’s out of place. That’s fine. It makes him look sexier. You find your clothes are getting uncomfortable. You know his probably are too. 

So you order him to your bedroom and instruct him to strip out of everything but the hat and the dog tags and wait for you. You plan on finding the right background music for this first. You don’t know if he’s a screamer and you want to be ready just in case. You find an album of absolutely filthy sexual music. This is your usual music for first timers. It will do beautifully. You’re pretty certain that he has yet to come under the command of a proper Domme in his lifetime. Oh well. There was a first time for everything. 

Before you step back towards your bedroom you strip yourself down to your undergarments, a black thong and a black bra that cups you nicely. The clothes you leave in the living room. You don’t need anything else. The rest of your toys are in the room. He’ll learn about those soon enough.

You walk into your room and are pleased to see he’s done what you’ve asked of him. He’s sitting on your bed, clad in only what you’ve instructed. He’s not quite touching himself but you can tell he’s tempted. That’s earned him something of a reward. You’ve decided to let him talk while you do this. It’s not a luxury many first timers had earned in the past. It’s one more thing in his favor. Maybe you’ll leave this one your number. 

You set up the CD in the CD player and introduce yourself. You instruct him to call you Madame or Mistress as the music starts playing and you pick up your riding crop that was resting beside the bureau and snap it. His dick jumps at the sound and he swallows. Good. He’s not afraid. You know your blindfold is in the nightstand along with a coil of bondage rope. You know just the knot and the pattern you want to bind his arms in that will accentuate those fine pecs nicely. 

As you stalk closer and reach out with the soft fold of leather to brush his cheek and neck you look him in his blue eyes and ask him what his safe word is. He blinks but comes up with one quickly. “Red Sox. Ma’am.” You smile. Not only did he address you properly but he chose a safe word that was common enough you’d remember it easily. You repeat it just to make sure then plan your approach.

You tell him to get on his needs and fold his arms behind his back. He does as you say and as you watch him move, adjusting the way he was sitting so he ends up sitting back on his heels while he kneels on your bed with his hands behind his back. You set the riding crop aside and open the drawer in the nightstand to get the blindfold and the rope. He looks confused for a moment before understanding dawns and he moans softly. 

You say nothing as you climb onto the bed behind him and look at how his muscles are configured in the way he’s holding himself. You need something that won’t put too much strain but will keep him in place. After a moment of contemplation while your hands trace his lean but toned arms you make your decision and begin your work. It is an intricate weave that allows for movement but not escape from the bindings. You mouth at his neck and press kisses to his shoulders as you work. To thank him for his patience when you are done, you scoot closer and let his fingers brush you through your thong. You know you’re already wet enough to have dampened them and you let him feel that before you pull away from his bound hands.

You move from there to reach around him and touch his hard, hot penis, getting a feel for the shape and size of him as you do so with one hand. You know you have condoms that fit him and a cock ring that will keep him hard for you as long as you need him too. You whisper filthy things in his ear, calling him all kinds of mildly degrading names that in any other context might have warranted a fight from him while your other hand pinches at his hardened nipples and fondle the muscles of his chest. As it is, he just moans and leans back into you, agreeing with what you say. Hell, he even repeats some of it back to you. You kiss him for his compliance. He’s earned that much.

Once he’s perfect and you begin to feel impatient, you move away and stand in front of him, opening your drawer again to find the cock ring and a condom. You find both and set these aside where his blue eyes can see them. He swallows at the sight of them but you can’t tell if it’s nerves or if he’s just aroused by them. You take the time to slip out of your remaining clothes and touch yourself for him. You make sure to put on a little show for him as you fondle your own breast and slip a finger inside yourself. You hear a sharp intake of his breath through his teeth.

“Damn,” he says quietly, as if unable to keep quiet anymore. You’re vaguely surprised he managed to stay quiet this long. “That is a fuckin’ gorgeous sight, ma’am. Wish I could be the one touchin’ ya though. Just wanna bite at your titties and fuck ya with my fingers. Bet you’d feel so wet ma’am. You want this as much as I do babe. I can tell.”

Normally you wouldn’t have tolerated his talking but you like his voice, his accent, so you let him talk dirty to you. You have to admit it’s hot but you’ve got a better use for that mouth of his. You let go of yourself and stick your fingers, wet with your own fluids in his mouth. He doesn’t need instruction to know what to do with them. You purr as he suckles on them, licking them clean as best he can. He looks up at you from under the brim of his hat as he does so. Yes, you decide, that is a sight you need to see more often with him.

Once your fingers are clean you take them back and use your other hand to grab at his dog tags and use the chain they’re on to drag him off the bed so that he’s kneeling on the floor next to the bed. It’s a little tricky for him to get there without falling but you make sure he doesn’t hurt himself as he moves. His eyes never leave yours even though to know he’d love nothing more than to stare at your body. You reward him by leaning over to kiss him sweetly. You like the way he tastes. It’s a mixture of his natural flavor and the drink he had the club. It’s not overly sweet but it’s not straight alcohol either. It makes a good combination. 

You pull away after a few minutes because of the strain being bent so far puts on your back and you adjust your position so you’re sitting on the very edge of the bed with the man between your open knees. You tell him that he talks real nice but you’re sure he can put that mouth of his to better use. You cup him by the back of his head and bring him closer to your hot, wet core. His breath feels fast against your skin but you give him time. Your fingers brush through his short, soft hair, trying to not force him but at the same time encourage him to go ahead and taste you. You think he’ll be good at this.

You feel the cold tip of his nose gently brush your folds as if he’s trying to figure out how they part then his tongue follows, as if testing the give. You moan softly. He looks up at you sharply, as if surprised by the noise but then that dirty smirk comes on his face again. He scoots closer and applies more pressure with his tongue, using the muscle to part your folds and trace over your hole and clit. It feels so good you throw your head back and let out a fairly loud noise of approval. 

He pulls his tongue back at that and takes your clit between his lips to toy with. You call him filthy things, remind him that he’s just here for your entertainment and his last mistress must have taught him well for him to be so good at this. He moves then and lets his tongue pierce your folds again, this time, tracing your wet hole. You tell him that it must have been a while since he properly had a woman because he seemed starved for your juices. He moans and nods then proceeds to slide his tongue inside your hole. You cry out and bring his head closer. It’s nowhere near as good as his cock is going to feel but it feels good none the less. You encourage him by talking even dirtier. He doubles his efforts. It doesn’t take you much longer to cum under his tongue. 

It takes you a few moments to recover from the waves of pleasure but he’s not complaining if the way he’s licking his lips after you release your death grip on his head. If anything he appears more amused and aroused. He has pleased you so far but you’re not done with him yet. “That didn’ take long,” he says as you get ready to stand, “guess you like your men as fast talkers for a reason. Is that a record for ya, ma’am? Or am I just one of da best?” You laugh. Silly boy. His ego needs to be taken down a peg or two.

You stand up and get him onto the bed again, helping him up when he doesn’t move fast enough, but this time to throw him so he’s face down on the bed, his bound arms flat against his back as he stares at you over his shoulder. He looks surprised and is trying to ask you something but you ignore him and instead arrange him so that his ass, round and muscled and just perfect for your intended weapon, is up in the air, exposed and ready for the lashes. You pick up your riding crop and he quiets down. 

You tell him, with a stern voice, to count each lash and to thank you when you are done. He seems unsure about this but you’re certain once you get going he’ll find pleasure in this stinging pain. He yelps as you bring it down the first time and curses but does as you instruct. “O-one ma’am. God freakin’ damn that stings!” You bring the whip down again, this time on the other cheek and he yelps again. “Two ma’am. Fuckin’ hell…”

The pattern continues until you reach ten, until his ass his red and warm beneath your hands when you touch it and his balls hang heavily from where they dangle between his legs. You grope them gently, massage the little gonads in your had while you soothe him with kisses to the back of his neck. His hat’s out of place. You wonder what his hair looks like under it but you think he looks hot enough with the hat. No need to ruin the illusion now. 

While he recovers you lean back and carefully undo his bonds so that he can move his arms and lay on his back. Once he’s there, you retie them in a less intricate pattern but one he can’t get out of anyway as this time the ropes are tied to the head board. You see his hands grasp at the bars near them. Good. That will reduce the strain of the rope on his wrists. You adjust the cap on his head so it sits lower. His blue eyes look pleading as you move to straddle his waist. You can feel his strong thighs against your ass. Good. He’ll be able to fuck you nice and hard when you ask him for it.

In the mean time you trace his lean musculature with your fingers, appreciating the wiry strength you find in his body. He’s young. He’s strong. He’s fit. If you were wild animals he’d make a good mate. As it is he’s beautiful enough to keep as a pet. You wonder if he’ll let you do so. He’d look good in a collar, sitting at your feet in public like some kind of menacing attack dog that no one expects to be as dangerous as he is. Some of the women at the club would be jealous and ask for a turn with him. You’ll ask him after you’re done with him tonight. 

“Please…”

His voice startles you out of your thoughts and you look at his near desperate expression. It’s only then that you notice that he’s trying to hump the air behind you. You laugh. Yes, he’s earned his right to fuck you but you’d like to hear him beg some more. He has such a lovely voice when he begs you. You wish you could make it into a ringtone for him. In fact you might.

You ask him what he wants. He can barely articulate anymore. “Please… ma’am… you gotta do somethin’… please… I’m so hard ma’am. Play wit’ me. Use me. Please ma’am, just let me cum. God you’re so gorgeous. I need ta cum.”

You tell him it’s not quite time yet and reach for the condom on the night stand. As you get the plastic, you feet him one of your nipples, letting him use his talented mouth on the nub like he did on your hole earlier. Now you aren’t stupid. You are taking the pill. But you don’t know where he’s been and you want to make sure that if he’s got some kind of disease, he’s gonna keep it to himself. Once you’ve got the wrapper open to carefully pinch the latex tip of the condom and lean back to roll it onto him. He feels as hard as steel beneath your hand. You moan. That will feel so good.

As soon as you’re sure it’s in place and won’t come off any time soon, you move to hover over his healthy erection. He’s pulling at the bonds he’s in but you know they won’t come undone. You tell him how beautiful he looks when he’s so hard he’s barely human in his instinctual need to fuck into you. You move carefully as you sink back onto him. He moans loudly and curses colorfully. He tries to fuck up into you but you pick up the crop again and smack his chest with it as a warning. You will take him at the pace you see fit, not him. He stops moving but he’s panting with the strain of staying still. Eventually, when you’re fully seated, you roll your hips. It feels good to be so full of rock hard dick.

You start your pace slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his face as you begin to ride him. You tell him how good he feels and your plans on keeping him as your fuck toy. Your pace builds and he’s clearly fighting to stay still. You tell him how great of a whore he’d make, how a man slut like him just enjoy being ridden like the animal he is. He tries to buck as you ride him hard. You keep whipping his chest and abs, careful to not leave marks. Not yet, you tell him, not until you’re ready.

It doesn’t take your legs all that long before they tire, much to your frustration, so you position yourself so he can’t possibly cause you displeasure and tell him to fuck up into you. You moan as he does so, trying to pull away from his bonds so he can hold onto you. You can feel your pleasure building the faster he pounds himself into you. You encourage him with breathless moans and dirty words. You tell him that he needs to fuck you harder, fuck you like he means it, like his very value as a human being depends on it. He’s getting frantic and you kiss him hungrily. Your second orgasm is building quickly. He deserves to feel his too.

So you rock back, fuck yourself back onto his dick as you carefully balance yourself on his thighs and let his eyes watch your tits bounce at the pace. You ask him if he’s ready to cum, ready to fill the condom with his seed, and his reply is frantic, desperate. He begs you to let him do it, to let him cum inside the condom while inside you. You unlatch the cock ring just as you start to cum and order him to do the same. It only takes a few more thrusts before his back arches and he buries himself fully in you, as if he’s trying to impregnate you through the latex. It’s so primal it’s beautiful and you can appreciate that as you float on your own high.

It takes a few minutes for you to come down again and as you do you notice that he’s still breathing hard and although he’s sweaty it isn’t in an utterly disgusting way. You lift yourself off his softened dick, almost missing the feeling of him being inside already, and untie the bonds holding him before putting the rope off to the side. You didn’t get to use the blindfold but that’s okay. If he’s here in the morning you might use it then. 

You are careful as you get up from the bed then and carefully remove the condom from him, tying it off with the ease of practice before you go to the bathroom to clean up a bit. You’re not ashamed of your nakedness. If he’s embarrassed by it now, he’s more of a child then you thought despite the fact you feel as if you’ve ridden a man. It doesn’t take long before you’re nice and clean and you bring him the warm wash cloth just in case he wants it. You tell him to put it in the basin next to the bed when he’s done. You keep it there for this reason… amongst many others too.

Once he’s done with the cloth and set it aside, you lift the covers and drape them over the two of you. You pull him close and finally get rid of the hat, running your fingers through his dirty blond hair as you tell him how well he did and how much you are pleased with him. He wraps his strong arms around you and nuzzles your bosom in a non-sexual way. It appears he’s not as shy about nakedness as you thought he would be. You tell him he should stay the rest of the night. He looks tired.

“Thanks,” he says, already drifting toward sleep. You don’t mind. You’re feeling pretty sleepy too. “Gotta say, it wasn’t what I was expectin’. Never thought that bein’ tied up and whipped woulda evah be considered a good thing.”

You smile and keep petting him, telling him that there are more things than just that, that you started him off easy because you weren’t sure what his experience level with such scenes was. He laughs and squeezes you for a minute before relaxing again. Your hand slips from his hair to drape across his shoulders. You can feel him smile against your skin.

After a few minutes, just as you think he may have fallen asleep and you’re pretty close to that oblivion too, he says something that pulls you back. “That’s right, I nevah told ya my name,” he says, well, more like mumbles so you half feel, have hear the words. The name he gives you isn’t one you’re really expecting. You always pegged him as something more boyish like Jake or Mike. He doesn’t seem to notice your thoughts. “But everyone I know calls me Scout. ‘Cause that’s my job. I’m a scout.”

It would explain the dog tags and the powerful legs that are now entwined with yours. You had to admit you were a bit curious but far too turned on by the objects themselves to really consider where he got them from. You say that here he can go by any name he wants here. His job doesn’t make him who he is and he can be free of it if he wants to be in here.

He nodded minutely. “Thanks.” It’s the best you can offer him and he seems to appreciate that. 

You can feel sleep pulling you closer and closer into the dark abyss of dreams so you wrap your arms around him tight and make sure your legs are so entwined he’ll have a hard time getting out of them in the morning without waking you up. Even if he wants to leave before breakfast or round to, you want to at least say good bye to him and hand him your business card. You don’t care if he sees you at your real job. The girls there would be jealous of you for just knowing him, let alone fucking him.

That night, as you sleep, you dream of what your life would be like with him in it. You dream of coming home to find dinner made for you and him, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and the tags serving it to you. You dream of the sex you two would have and the way you’d parade him around in subtle ways just so everyone would know he’s yours. But most of all you dream of finally being truly happy.


End file.
